


Polished

by kgirl1



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgirl1/pseuds/kgirl1
Summary: In an effort to make Sabine feel at home in her first few weeks with the crew, Hera steps far outside her own comfort zone.





	Polished

Hera passed through the common room, in the brief respite between one task and another, when a certain colorful collection at the table caught her eye and gave her pause.

"Hera!" Sabine seemed surprised and maybe a little nervous to see her. She had a nail polish applicator frozen in her left hand, and the fingernails on her right were all a fresh shade of purple. "Um, you don't mind if I paint my nails here, right?" The girl gave a weak, and slightly guilty, smile.

Hera wasn't thrilled with the idea (especially since Sabine had brought it up after the fact) or the mess it could possibly lead to, but she knew that having a teenager on board meant picking her battles. Especially a teenager who was so new to the crew, and had yet to open up to them besides her basic biographical information. And really, nine out of ten of her nails were already painted, so there was no point in causing a fuss over it now.

"Sure," she said, throwing ease into her voice. "Just don't get polish on the table." Hera couldn't help but add that last part.

"Right, right, of course," Sabine nodded eagerly, clearly relieved to be off the hook. Hera went to wash her hands, watching Sabine out of the corner of her eye.

"That's a pretty color," she commented idly.

Sabine flexed her fingers out, examining them carefully. "Thanks. It turned out a little darker than I thought it would, but I think I like it."

"It suits you," Hera said. Sabine smiled and set her hands back on the table. She watched absentmindedly as the pilot dried her hands, and then an idea danced across her face.

"Do you ever paint your nails?" Sabine asked.

"Ah, no," Hera shook her head.

A creative gleam lit Sabine's eyes. "Can I paint them sometime?"

Hera blinked in surprise. "Sure," she said, swallowing.

"Like right now?" Sabine was grinning at her eagerly. Hera swallowed again.

"I don't know, Sabine—"

"Why not? You're not doing anything," Sabine pointed out, then shrugged. "Well, you're always doing  _something,_  but, you're not doing anything particularly important, right?"

Hera shifted between her feet. "Well—"

"Come on," Sabine begged. "It's quick-dry," she added in a sing-song voice, wiggling the bottle.

Hera bit her lip, glancing between her hands, the polish, and her newest recruit. Her shoulders tense, she slipped into the common room's booth in resignation.

"Alright."

"Yes," Sabine's cheeks cracked in a wide grin, and she amassed the collection of bottles. "Okay, for you, I'm thinking "Hyperspace Blue." It'll totally match your eyes."

Hera took in the obscenely bright color and stifled a gulp. "You're the expert," she murmured, setting her gloves off to the side. Hera spread her fingers on the table and watched Sabine go to work, transforming her fingernails into bright blue ovals one by one. She found herself grateful that female twi'leks didn't have the same pointed, claw-like fingernails as the males—that certainly would have been disconcerting for Sabine. Still, her stomach churned to see the garish color applied.

"So you've really never done this?" Sabine broke the silence.

Hera hesitated. "We don't really use nail polish on Ryloth," she said carefully. It was a half-truth.

"That's too bad," Sabine said, without looking up from her work. "You have the perfect hands for it."

Hera could only murmur in response to what was meant to be a compliment.

"What about you?" She changed the subject. "How long have you been painting them?"

Sabine chuckled. "Ever since I could get my hands on this stuff. It was one of the only forms of painting my mother approved of, and that was mostly because I could cover it up with gloves."

If she'd realized that those two sentences had revealed more about her past than the past two weeks had, Sabine gave no indication.

"That's surprising, considering what a talented artist you are," Hera said, hoping to prompt her into saying more.

Sabine just shrugged. "Art wasn't really one of her priorities."

"Mm," Hera nodded. There was a hesitant silence between the two. "You don't talk about your mother much," she finally said.

Sabine lifted a level stare to meet Hera's eyes. "Neither do you."

Hera gave a rueful smile. "Touché."

"Is she alive?" Sabine asked. It struck Hera, how tragic it was, for that to be the first question a young girl would ask, and how tragic it was that neither of them was phased by it.

Hera shook her head. "She died during the Clone War."

"I'm sorry," Sabine murmured. Hera could tell that she meant it.

"Thank you," she said.

"Do you miss her?"

The question, sensitive and contrary to the prickly nature Sabine had shown them so far, surprised Hera. She answered it with as much sincerity as she could.

"I do, but, I know she's still with me," Hera said. She debated saying more, figuring the teen would find it cheesy, but forged ahead anyway. "I don't think the people we love ever really leave us."

Sabine gave a soft smile, but it quickly faded, and she resumed her attention to Hera's nails without another word. The lack of a response spoke volumes to the twi'lek.

"And… done," Sabine finally announced, after a few minutes of companionable quiet. Hera held her hands out and examined them.

"Wow," she said, blinking at the glaring hue. Hera's chest felt tight. "Great job, Sabine," she managed. That was a full truth—the polish job was impeccable, even if seeing her nails painted so gaudily made Hera feel sick.

"Thanks," Sabine grinned. She gave Hera a knowing look. "I'm sure you have some task to run off and do, but let them dry for a while before you put your gloves on, alright?"

Hera forced a smile and gave a careful mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

She left the common room followed by Sabine's chuckle. The twi'lek was torn—her heart was warm, but her stomach had an icy knot in it. Unconsciously, she found her way to the cockpit, took the pilot's chair and started running diagnostics—Hera had always felt most at home here, in control at the helm of her ship. With her fingers flashing madly, she could pretend the glaring blue was coming from the controls, rather than her nails.

Kanan found her in the pilot's chair, when he stopped by later. Having run every possible diagnostic twice, Hera had her bare hands splayed on the dashboard and was studying them intently.

"Whoa," he said, noticing the polish instantly. Kanan dropped into the chair next to her. "That's… new."

"I look like a whore," Hera murmured, flexing her fingers. Kanan furrowed his brow.

"Um…" He faced her, looking quizzical. "No."

Hera gave him an exasperated look. "Look at this." She held her hands out to him, nails first, and shook them.

"I saw. It's… different," he said carefully. Kanan was experiencing that same caged-animal unease so many men feel when confronted with a significant other whose distress they can't identify.

Hera sighed, and lowered her voice. "On Ryloth, nail polish is for prostitutes." Her tone was hushed, as if the sentence were a cancer diagnosis.

His eyebrows went up. "Oh."  _Distress, identified._  "And you're wearing it because…"

She sighed again, this time with resignation. "Sabine asked me to. She wanted to paint my nails, and she's new on the ship, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings—"

"Gotcha," he nodded. Kanan cocked his head. "I take it you neglected to mention the whole prostitute thing."

"Of course I did," Hera huffed, flinging a hand in the air. "It only would have made her uncomfortable, which is the opposite of what I'm trying to do."

Kanan leaned back in his chair. "You know," he said slowly, "You don't have to play dress-up for her to feel welcome here."

Hera shot him a glare.

"I hate that I'm even saying this, but it's a girl thing," she rolled her eyes, resentful that he'd forced her to resort to clichés. "You wouldn't understand."

He snorted.

"I'm serious," Hera swatted his arm. "I know it sounds trite, but nail polish is one of those things girls can bond over. I was hoping to get close to her."

"And did it work?" Kanan raised an eyebrow.

"Actually… Yeah," she admitted, nodding slowly. "She revealed a lot about her past. More than she was planning to, I think."

"Good," he said. "That's good."

"Yeah." Hera looked back down to her fingernails and sighed. "It's great."

Kanan reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "You probably don't have to let her paint your nails every time you want to bond with her, you know."

Hera bit her lip through a grin. "I hope not."

* * *

 

After talking with Hera, Kanan ambled his way into the common room, where he found Sabine sitting at the table, sorting through nail polish. He smiled knowingly.

"Hey," he greeted her as he entered. "Want some caf?"

Sabine shrugged. "I'm good, thanks."

Kanan nodded and started the machine. "What's all that?" He feigned innocence.

"Nail polish," Sabine answered. "I did mine and Hera's earlier."

Kanan raised an eyebrow.  _"Hera_  let you paint her nails?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah." Sabine looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Kanan started to say something but then clammed up. "No reason." He turned back to the counter and stirred his caf.

"Kanan!" Sabine huffed in frustration. "What is it?"

He waved a hand in the air behind his back, without turning around. "Nothing, nothing," Kanan murmured, a mischievous grin that she couldn't see on his face. "I just thought you knew."

Sabine frowned, stood up from the table, and went over to the counter so that he had to face her. "Knew  _what?"_  She demanded, her eyes narrowed.

Kanan cast a hesitant glance to the door. "I don't know, Sabine, it's not really my place to say…"

She groaned and rolled her eyes at him, giving him an impatient look. Kanan sighed in resignation and leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. His eyes darted to the door once more, and he relished every second of the performance before he spoke.

"On Ryloth, where Hera's from… nail polish is only worn by prostitutes," he said tentatively. Sabine's mouth dropped open in horror, and if he hadn't been hiding his amusement with a doleful nod, Kanan might have chortled at the teenager's expressive face.

"Are you serious?" She hissed. Sabine glanced back to the pile of nail polish in horror. "Why didn't she tell me?"

Kanan shrugged. "You know Hera," he said, and took a nonchalant sip of his caf, as if the three of them had known each other for years. "She'd never want to hurt your feelings."

"Urgh." Sabine stomped a foot on the ground, and again, he had to conceal his laughter. "She probably hates me," she worried, glancing in the direction of the cockpit and then spreading her arms to him. "What do I do?"

Kanan licked his lips. "Well, not trying to paint her nails again is probably a good start."

He found himself pinned by the full force of a resentful teenaged glare, which, if not for years with Hera, he might not have been so impervious to. "You're no help," Sabine huffed.

Hera, unwittingly joining Kanan's performance with a timing that couldn't have been more perfect if she had been cued, chose that exact moment to walk through the galley.

"Hera," Sabine exclaimed. Hera jolted, and Kanan wondered if the unease she quickly concealed on her face had something to do with the thought of Sabine asking to paint her toenails, too. The twi'lek opened her mouth, but Sabine beat her to it.

"Kanan just told me that nail polish is for  _prostitutes?"_  she screeched.

Hera's eyes fell on Kanan in a glare that mimicked Sabine's the same way a rancor mimicked a Lothcat. He found himself questioning the brilliance of his plan.

"He did, did he?" Hera folded her arms, her stare unwavering. Kanan reached up to rub the back of his neck.

"I… may have mentioned it, yes," he admitted, and tried not to break her gaze, which was like staring into both of Tatooine's suns at once.

Sabine ignored the tension between the two. "Why didn't you say something?" She demanded of Hera.

Hera shifted her gaze away from Kanan, who was greatly relieved, and turned more bashful eyes in Sabine's direction.

"I didn't want to insult you," she admitted. "I was touched that you offered, and I didn't want to turn you down."

"Yeah, but Hera, you're not a prostitute," Sabine said forcibly. She sounded uneasy. "You didn't have to go against your principles for something as vapid as nail painting."

"I wasn't really in it for the nail painting," Hera gave a gentle, if bashful, smile. "What I really wanted was a chance to talk to you. You're new on the ship, and I wanted to make you feel comfortable."

Sabine threw her hands up in the air. "How is turning my captain into a prostitute supposed to make me feel comfortable?!"

Hera shot another icy look at Kanan, and then her eyes lid back to Sabine, softening with an apology. "To be fair," she admitted, "You weren't supposed to find out."

Kanan winced, as if to apologize. Hera rolled her eyes at him, informing him that they would have a long and painful discussion about this later. Sabine watched the exchange with amusement.

Hera turned back to the girl. "Look, Sabine, you couldn't possibly have known. I was glad you offered, and that we got to spend some time together. It's nice having a girl on the ship, for a change," she said, directing the last sentence in Kanan's direction. He wilted under her stare.

"Well," Sabine shifted back and forth, uncomfortable with the praise. "If you want me to take it off, I will."

Hera pursed her lips and straightened her shoulders, looking down at her nails with an upbeat chuckle. "You know, it's kind of growing on me."

Kanan lifted his eyebrows at this, but made sure Sabine didn't see. The girl managed a faint smile, and her gaze drifted awkwardly around the room.

"I should get this stuff cleaned up," she said reluctantly. "I'm, uh, glad you like it," she bobbed her head quickly at Hera, before gathering the polish and darting out.

Kanan had the good grace to wait until the sound of her footsteps vanished before leaning back against the counter with a smirk.

"Growing on you, huh?"

Hera rolled her eyes and shoved him on her way out. "Next time, she can paint  _your_ nails."

"Hey, I was just trying to get you guys on the same page!" Kanan stood in the doorway and called after her. "If we're going to be a crew, we have to be honest with each other!"

"Then let be honest with you," Hera turned her head and rolled her eyes. "Sleep in your own bunk tonight!"

He chuckled as she sashayed away. Back in the kitchen, one of the bottles had fallen to the ground—he picked it up and examined it briefly, a bright green. Kanan held it up to his fingernails for a moment, and cast a glance in the direction Hera had gone off in, but then just gave a rueful grin and set it down, shaking his head.


End file.
